Heather wasn't a prude. No way was she a prude! She liked to think that she was a "good girl," at least sort of, but no way was she a prude!

She'd had sex a bunch of times, mostly with her boyfriend from high school. Prudes don't have sex with their boyfriends in high school, but "good girls" do sometimes, if they're really in love, and she was, or at least she thought so when they did it.

But now that she's a freshman in college, she'd had sex twice more, with two different guys. One was the older brother of a girl from her dorm and is sort of her "boyfriend" now, but the other was just some guy she met at a party and they went back to his apartment and had a "one night stand." She didn't even know his name!

So she knew she wasn't a prude. Prudes don't have one night stands with guys they don't even know!

Sure, maybe "good girls" don't have one night stands, either, but she certainly wasn't a slut or anything like that. She knew she wasn't a slut, because there was one thing she'd never done: She'd never given a guy a blow job. Whenever girls at her high school would talk about how they gave a guy a blow job, it was always the sluts. She just always looked down on the sluts because they did that. No way was she ever going to do that!

The whole idea of taking a guy's penis and putting it in your mouth--the whole idea just sort of disgusted her. He pees with it, and puts it in your vagina, and you're going to put it in your mouth? Gross! And that's not even talking about actually letting him ejaculate--how disgusting is that? Girls actually let guys ejaculate in their mouths? How totally gross!

So, all that makes it even more interesting, where little eighteen year old newly-minted college freshman Heather Harrelson found herself last Friday night.

She and her new friend Julie had just gotten fake IDs so they went to a club. The whole reason Julie went was to pick up guys, and it worked--she had like three or four guys around her almost the minute the two girls walked in the place. Heather wasn't nearly as sexy as Julie, and she was way more shy, so she just sort of sat at the bar and looked around. Almost immediately a guy came over to the bar and introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm John," he said.

"Hi," she said back. He was way older, he even had a little grey hair, but she thought he was cute--a nice face and a decent-looking body. "I'm Heather."

"Whaccha drinking, Heather?"

The two of them sat there talking for a while, and he kept buying her drinks, really expensive drinks. He was spending a lot of money on her. At first they talked about her school, and his work, and stuff like that, but after about five drinks or so they started talking about more, um, "intimate" subjects.

"So, you have a boyfriend, Heather?"

"Yeah, sorta."

"Sorta?"

"Well we're sorta seeing each other."

"Yeah? How close are you?"

"Huh?" She squinted at John.

"You know, like, do you guys have sex?"

She giggled. "You want to know if I have sex with him?"

"Yeah! So I know how serious you guys are."

"We've had sex once." She couldn't believe she told him that! She must be getting drunk!

"Only once, huh? That's not too serious."

"No."

"So tell me, Heather," he said, motioning to the bar tender to get them two more drinks, "what's your favorite position?"

"Position?" She honestly didn't know what he meant.

"You know," he handed the drink to her, "you're favorite sex position."

"Oh." She felt her face get flush. "I don't know, what do you call it, when the guy's on top?"

"Missionary."

"Yeah, that's right."

"So your favorite position is missionary?"

"I don't know, I guess, it's the only way I've ever done it."

"What?!? You've only ever done it missionary style?!?"

"Yeah, I'm a good girl." She smiled nervously at him.

"Wow."

"So what's your favorite?"

"I like the girl on top," he said, grinning naughtily at her. "I like to watch her tits bounce while she fucks me." Heather felt her heart skip; she'd never had a guy talk so dirty to her before. "And I like 'sixty-nine.'"

"What's 'sixty-nine?'"

"Man, you really are a good girl, aren't you? It's when the guy is licking the girl's pussy while she's sucking his cock."

"Oh. And you like that?"

"Oh, yeah, it's great. You should try it some time."

"I... I've never even..."

"Don't tell me you've never even given a blow job before!"

"Well..."

"Damn! Well, there's a first time for everything. You wanna give it a try?"

She looked up at him, her heart skipping. "You mean right here? Right now?"

"Well not right here, I know a good place." He stood up and tossed a couple of hundreds on the bar and grabbed her hand. She really didn't even have time to think about it, she just stood up and let him lead her away.

Her head was swimming as he pulled her along; she'd definitely drank way too much and was feeling pretty drunk. She hardly even knew what was going on as he led her down a hallway past the bathrooms and out a back door and into the alley behind the club. Once they were out the door he didn't even try to find somewhere more isolated, he just pushed her down onto her knees, just a couple of feet away from the door, unbuckled his pants and pulled them down around his thighs.

"Alright, Heather, I'll give you a lesson in how to blow, OK?"

She looked up at him. "OK," she said meekly.

"Open wide," he said. As soon as she did, he was pushing his big penis in her mouth.

"Both hands, now, Heather--one you wrap around my cock and jack it, the other one you play with my balls. There you go, that's it. Shit, Heather, you're a natural at this!"

That made her feel good. She knew she was totally drunk, but right then, she didn't want to be a "good girl" anymore. She wanted to be a bad girl, she wanted to be a slut. She wanted to make this guy feel really, really good.

"Oh, fuck, Heather, you're good! You're damn good!"

Vaguely, like from somewhere a long way off, she heard the door open. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man in a cook's outfit looking at her and lighting a cigarette, but this barely registered in her mind, it was like a dream.

"Hey, dude," she heard John say to the cook, a long way off. "We'll be done in a second."

"Take your time," she heard the cook answer.

John swatted her hand away from his cock and started jacking himself. "Oh, fuck, Heather!" he said again. "Fuck!"

Then all the sudden her mouth was completely full of some horrible liquid. She didn't even realize what was happening, just that her mouth was completely full of this horrible salty hot liquid.

"Oh, yeah!" she heard John yell, but it was like he was a hundred miles away. All she could think about was how she had to get away from his cock so he didn't shoot any more of that horrible nasty stuff in her mouth. She pulled away, and was vaguely aware that his cock was still shooting come onto her, into her hair and on her blouse, and then she leaned over and started retching, spitting up, trying to get that nasty stuff out of her mouth.

John was grinning broadly at her when she sat up. "That was awesome, Heather, you're a natural!"

She didn't really know what to say, so she just tried to give him a smile.

"I gotta take a piss, I'll be right back."

"Hey," the cook said, "mind if I have a go at it?"

"Help yourself," John said, "but make it quick, I gotta get her back inside or her friend'll probably start freaking."

Before Heather could even think, the cook had unzipped his fly, pulled his dick out, and was stuffing it into her mouth. She didn't want him to do it, but she didn't put up any resistance. She just opened wide.

The cook jacked himself off in her mouth and didn't take any time at all to do it. "Oh, fuck, yeah!" he was hollering just as John came back from doing his business. A little bit smarter this time, and maybe a little bit less drunk, she pulled away just as he started to come, but he fired it all over her face, and in her hair, and on her blouse.

"Thanks, man," the cook said to John as he stuffed his cock back in his fly.

"No problem, have a good one."

"You too."

John helped her to her feet. "Better get you inside," he said.

"Yeah." She staggered behind him, wiping come off of her face with her shirt sleeve.

The next thing she remembers, she was standing in the main room. "Oh my God! What happened to you?" her friend Julie was saying to her.

"I... I don't know..." Heather was looking around for John. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you drunk? What's in your hair?"

Heather lifted her hand up to her hair, but before her hand even got there she knew what it was. She remembered.

"Um..."

"Goddamn, Heather, you're fucking covered in come!" Julie grabbed her friend's hand and dragged her to the bathroom.